


meet me where i am

by Tropical



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 12:39:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10412328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tropical/pseuds/Tropical
Summary: Nyx is, despite his best attempts, a little too late.





	

The line between life and death is impossibly thin, a distinction only the dead could fully appreciate.  Nyx paces, prowls along the border, eyes burning from the intensity of his watch.  His need to see Noctis coming keeps his gaze unwavering, because if he sees him, then he has to turn him around, send him away, and if he blinks—

He used to see Noct a lot, here at the border.  Sometimes he just appeared, smoking and twitching, electricity crackling on his skin.  Sometimes Noct tried to stagger towards him, legs shredded, skin grey.  And sometimes, the prince didn’t stand at all; only his shoulders trembled with each inhale, blood pouring from his wounds.

(Noct wheezed for breath, “Nyx.”  His hand rose from his side, dripping in gore.  Reaching for him.

Nyx’s eyes burned.  “If you die now,” the Glaive carefully enunciated, “Then I’ll kill you.”

“If you kick the bucket, I’ll kill you, you damn brat,” he swore in Galahdian, as Noct vomited ichor, inches away.

“If you die, I’ll kill you, and then Crowe’ll kill the both of us,” he spat, shaking, as Noct struggled to keep the gaping edges of his chest closed.

“Gods, Noct, please, you  _ can’t _ —“ he begged in every language he knew as Noct screamed, writhed, and  _ Nyx did not move _ .)

Lately, he hasn’t seen Noctis at all.  Which, Nyx reminds himself, is a good thing.  It’s a wonderful thing that the last heir to the Lucian throne hasn’t been straying anywhere near the realm of the dead – his friends need him, his people need him, the world needs him.

But the lands are dark, and worrying about Noct comes as easy as breathing used to.

Nyx drums his fingers against his thigh, for lack of other objects to fiddle with — gods, does he miss his blades — before dropping on the ground, legs sprawling.  His toes are just shy of life.

The idea of crossing the line festers in him.  Nothing physical bars the dead from going east, back into the lands of the living.  Hell, all of Lucis would probably welcome them with open arms and plates of food on windowsills.  But Nyx has lingered by the border long enough to know going back is a bad idea in good times.  At least then, he didn’t see any souls twist and warp into daemons.

Nyx has lost count of the transformations he’s seen since the sun vanished.

So he can’t go back to find Noctis, can’t try to check up on him and make sure the king-to-be hasn’t died of scurvy, or a cold, or a broken neck after falling off a pier.  He can’t inflict the daemon he’d become on Noct.  He won’t give him such cruelty.

All Nyx can do is sit and watch and wait and pray he’ll see Noct coming early enough to turn him away, even as the damned line taunts him, tempts him to give in and take a step forward.

Rocks crunch behind him.  It’s Crowe’s turn to make sure he hasn’t done something stupid like he keeps yearning to.  Or maybe it’s Pelna’s.  Or Tredd’s?

Whoever it is hasn’t left, which is a little odd.  Maybe Luche?  Everyone else claims to hate the sight of the border, even if they put up with it just long enough to check up on him.  Luche, in spite of all the issues between them, can tolerate it to give Nyx a little company.  

Except the last time Luche stuck around, they ended up talking about Insomnia.  And then further discussing it in depth.  With their fists.

Yeah, better to avoid that situation again.  “Still here, still not a daemon.  You can tell the others that too.”  Silence.  Nyx sighs, his temper rising.  “Buzz off, Luche, I’m not in the mood.”

“Luche?”  Nyx freezes at the sound of the amused voice behind him.   _ Behind him _ , gods no, he’d been keeping watch— “Didn’t you say you were always aware of everything that happened around you, hero?”

The hero is still, his hands digging into the dirt.  He’s disarmed, defenseless against this, the possibility that in spite of his determined vigilance, he could have—

Noct could have—

Nyx swallows, feels the burning in his eyes spread, and slowly rises to look.  

At his back stands a king swathed in Lucian black.  His hands are thin, elegant, and his shoulders just broad enough to fill his coat.  But everywhere else, his clothes sag, and his stance is uneven, and his fingers twitch and tremble—

Oh, but there — brighter than the sea, deeper than the sky.  How many times did Nyx wake to that shade of blue peeking out behind sleep mussed bangs, one pillow over?  How many times did Nyx swear he could see stars in them when Noctis smiled?

Nyx blinks, and the suit fits better, flesh and muscle restored beneath the cloth.  Noct’s gait, as he steps forward into Nyx’s space, is balanced, and his hand rising to cup Nyx’s cheek is steady.  

Nyx’s eyes swim and burn, and the king,  _ his king _ gently strokes his thumb over the dark bags he must have, soothing.  His blue blue gaze drifts past Nyx, to the east.  

To life.  

“Well,” he murmurs, “Would you look at that.”

Nyx sees the dawn in Noctis’s eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> cross posted from [tumblr](http://quotidiandreams.tumblr.com/post/158690095462/meet-me-where-i-am), inspired by aithilin's [reply](http://aithilin.tumblr.com/post/158369842074/quotidiandreams-replied-to-your-post).
> 
> this is fine guys, see, they can be together again. :')


End file.
